Now, when two human hearts are throbbing under the mysterious influence of the spell called Love, be it noted that the universe pauses in its majestic routine to take a part. Our good Mother Nature lends a more benevolent smile. The breeze touches with softer caress and gentler whispering. The trees and herbage are greener, the flowers yield a sweeter fragrance and wear an added loveliness. The Sun himself shines with brighter effulgence and more generous warmth; at his setting, paints the heavens and gray old earth in hues of unwonted brilliancy, and gives way to twilights more tender than twilights seen at other times. And the Moon—what splendor in her radiance then! and in the stars! The world—the non-human part of it, for our fellowmen are often less benignant and sometimes roughen love’s pathway most lamentably—the world takes on new charms and promises things untold; conspiring with the insistent young archer and with a thousand circumstances to lure the lovers on to their silently coveted happiness. Let all mankind unite in a commanding "Nay!" yet the two hear a still voice in more urgent "Yea, yea!" and read approval in Nature’s kindly face. Be their resistance never so strong in the beginning, it must surely be overcome by a fatal languor at a fatal moment, and the archer triumphs. Often, when Cristoval sat beside her in the hemicycle in meditative silence, Rava would take up Maytalca’s _tinya_[1] and sing to its accompaniment. The melodies were simple, soft, and plaintive, and she sang with the sympathy and sweetness of her nature, her voice quivering from the fulness of her heart. The music was the one thing needful to complete the agony of Cristoval’s self-denial. He heard her at first with wonder, then with unaffected ravishment. [1] Tinya = a stringed instrument something like the guitar.